


What if She Saw? (She did.)

by its_noma



Category: Original Work
Genre: "You" isn't even the reader it's just. Someone, Age Difference, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Betrayal, Cliffhangers, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Graduation, Heartbreak, Not Beta Read, Original Character(s), Secrets, Unrequited Love, Vaginal Sex, fem!reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:48:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24299110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_noma/pseuds/its_noma
Summary: But to think he would choose her best friend, the one who she has been in love with for nearly five years now?And to think...you let him in? You chose him in return?Kim leaves before she can see or hear anything else. Traveling back down the stairs, she almost forgets about the water boiling on the stove. She uses it as a worthy distraction from what's going on upstairs, even if it only makes her want to dunk her head into the burning hot water and melt her head off her shoulders. She doesn't actually do it, but imagining is the next best thing.Sometimes they say the imagination is far worse than reality, but Kim supposes whoever said that has never seen their best friend get fucked by their father.
Relationships: Kimmy/You (Reader; unrequited), Unnamed Father/You (Reader)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	What if She Saw? (She did.)

**Author's Note:**

> I am ashamed and disgusted—yet somehow so thoroughly invested this turned into 17 pages of whatever the _fuck_ this is—of myself. My girlfriend has this weird thing with ASMR videos, and no, I don't mean the ones with the tapping nails on an empty jar or eating close to a microphone. I'm talking _roleplay_ ASMR. She spammed me with videos of them—all 18+, mind you—and each one was garbage. Absolute trash.
> 
> But one in particular has been plaguing my mind, which can be found [here](https://youtu.be/yIcgLU3gE3I), which this is entirely based off of. So kudos for the character inspiration, dialogue from the father during the "Kimmy finds out" scene, and plotline, random 18+ ASMR YouTuber...you haunt my dreams now...and I can't sleep. I hate it here.
> 
> Blame my girlfriend for this.

Kim has known from a young age how attractive people find her father to be. Growing up, the compliments were never-ending, but as she got older they shifted from “your father is so kind!” and “you're so well-behaved! Your father must be raising you right” to “you're lucky to have a father that looks like _that_ ” and “wow, Kim, is it true he's single?”

It's a bit...weird, if she's being honest. How does one respond to people blatantly foaming at the mouth over her father? Kim has lived with him for years, even after him and his mother divorced, and in all that time she's never thought of him as that attractive. Maybe she's just used to it.

She takes solace in knowing her best friend, you, has never made such outlandish, thirsty comments in regards to her father. Her father had taken an immediate liking to you when you moved here in middle school, which you had kindly reciprocated—especially upon finding he's a professor teaching exactly what you want a career in—and so any time spent talking about him was dedicated to his career, not his looks. It's refreshing.

Which is why Kim doesn't question it when you ask if you could come home with her after school to ask her father some questions. Graduation is coming up soon. She already knows you've been accepted into the university her father teaches at with a full ride to boot—an impressive feat, so it makes sense why you want to ask her father questions about his program, degree requirements, etc.

“Sorry, (Y/N), I have soccer practice,” she says.

You deflate. “Oh, that's fine! Maybe another time.”

Kim knows how much your connection to her father means to you. At this point she's sure you're closer to her father than your own, but she doesn't question it. Her father has always been nice and helpful.

She shrugs; what's the harm in letting you come over after school even if she isn't there too? “You can go without me. When I get home we can all have dinner together!”

It’s an innocent offer she comes to regret.

* * *

Nothing happens the first time Kim lets you go over to her house alone, or the second or the third or the fourth. You and her have been working around her hectic soccer season schedule—and her swim season schedule, which just so happens to be on the opposite part of the academic year (meaning you are almost _always_ dealing with her sports schedule)—since becoming friends in sixth grade. When Kim explains your interest in speaking with him to her father, even while she's not home, he isn't off-put at all. In fact, he encourages it.

“It shows how serious she is,” her father explains when she almost chokes on her cup of milk in surprise. “Who am I to deny a prospective student—who I'll most likely be teaching in the near future—what she's to expect from the program?”

With an argument like that, Kim doesn't know why she was surprised. You're the most serious person about your future out of everyone else in their grade. Her father knows this as well after many shared dinners—and sometimes even shared _breakfasts_ whenever the two of you lose track of time and pass out after doing homework or binge-watching a random anime—and so him wanting to help is warranted. She just wishes he wouldn't laugh like a villain from Sailor Moon sometimes. You always tell her it reminds you of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure.

“Fair enough,” she shrugs. “Just don't make (Y/N) uncomfortable or anything, okay?”

Her father raises an amused brow. "Uncomfortable?”

“I mean,” Kim tries to reiterate, waving her fork in the air uselessly. “Don't be like...weird? I know you have a habit of, like, asking her about her life at home so…”

“Ah,” her father sighs in understanding. She nods. “I won't, don't worry. It's none of my business.”

“Right,” she agrees, and the subject is dropped.

* * *

“Kimmy!”

Kim groans as you swing your arms around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug from behind. She has to grip onto the door of her locker to ensure the two of you don't tumble back when you begin tipping backwards.

“Again with that stupid nickname,” she grumbles. “You're spending too much time around my dad.”

You laugh as you let her go, but it's true. A couple of days a week after school for the past _month_ you've been going over to her house after school. She knows her father is to blame for you picking up on calling her Kimmy; it's the only nickname Kim can tolerate from her father, and he takes advantage of that fact religiously. He must be trying to rub it into her face by getting you to follow in his footsteps. You two are too alike, Kim swears.

“You don't have practice tonight, do you?” you ask hopefully.

Kim barks out a laugh, slamming her locker closed and fidgeting with the number lock. "You know I do, I sent you my schedule at the beginning of the semester. Why? Gonna get chummy with my dad again?”

You shift from foot to foot, almost nervous. She raises a brow.

“No,” you deny. “I was hoping we could study for the upcoming bio exam together, ya know, like old times? You're always busy with practice. I miss you.”

Kim pushes down the butterflies that take hold of her stomach as you say that. It's no secret she's had a crush on you since the eighth grade when you beat up the guy that kept calling her the f slur after finding out she was gay, yet you're the only one who doesn't seem to know. She's planning to tell you on graduation day.

“Well, I'll try and get outta practice early just for you,” she swears.

She holds up her hand, pinky extended for your guys' ever-childish pact making process: a pinky promise. Your hand is clammy as it brushes against hers before you take hold of her pinky with hers and shakes it. She nearly melts.

“I'll be waiting then,” you say, and all Kim can do is nod before you walk away.

* * *

The first thing Kim hears when she gets home is silence. Usually she can hear you and her father in the living room or kitchen chatting over tea or coffee—typically whatever her father had left over that you've never denied when he offered—as you discuss university plans or some oddball story her father is telling you about one of his coworkers. But she's met with silence and an empty first floor of the house.

And then she hears the sound of rustling sheets upstairs.

Then, “Kimmy, is that you?”

If her father is upstairs, where are you? It's not like you to drop by to talk with her father and _not_ stay for dinner. At this point it feels like tradition to come home, exhausted from practice, and be greeted with her two favorite people bonding over shared interests and day-old coffee.

“Kimmy?”

“I'm down here, Dad!” she calls back.

He laughs, but it isn’t the same weird evil villain laugh. It’s more...nervous. “What'cha doin' home, babe?”

Kim shrugs off her gym bag—full of sweaty workout clothes—in the laundry room before making her way to her room to collect the rest of her dirty clothes. She's lucky to have a room that's on the first floor while her father's is on the second; it makes things a lot less awkward. Plus, she's never startled by him showing up unannounced. She can always hear him coming down the stairs, his footsteps loud and solid against the hardwood.

“Practice ended earlier than usual,” she calls back as she re-enters the laundry room. “What're _you_ doing home?”

A snide comment, but Kim knows her father enjoys their banter.

“Oh! Yeah,” he replies, and she raises a brow. Weird. “Um...I just got back from the gym, so I am...gonna take a shower and get changed. And I'll be down in a little bit, okay?”

Ah, of course. Her father must've been at the gym when you arrived so you just went home, seeing as the house was empty and you only used the spare keys she gave you sparingly.

“Oh, okay,” she says.

“Yeah.” Again with that evil villain laughter. “Yeah, sweetie, just make yourself something to eat and, uh, get your laundry started, okay?”

“Already on it, but sure,” she mumbles to herself, then calls back, “Okay. You'll be down soon, right?”

“Yeah, I'll be down in a little bit.”

Kim doesn't think much of her father's weirdness—he's always been weird, so it's startling that so many women froth over him at the PTA meetings he tells her about—instead focusing on loading her dirty clothes into the washer. She hums a gentle tune to herself, something she has no doubt you've sang around her before, as she measures out the necessary detergent before running the load.

She moves into the kitchen. Some coffee sounds good right now. Her father had gone to the gym, so the pot should be open and free to use.

Except when she sees it, she sees a half-filled pot and two empty mugs beside it.

What the...that's odd. Those mugs are her father's and yours, but you're not here. If her father went to the gym and supposedly just got back, where would he have found the time to brew a pot of coffee and down...two cups? Why would he drink from your cup? Kim had picked out that mug to gift with the spare key after one too many breakdowns from whatever you have going on at home, promising that “no matter what, you have a home here with us.”

So _were_ you here? And you just...brewed coffee for her father and had a cup before going? That seems semi-plausible, yet far too weird. You've had to leave early because of a surprise call from one of your parents demanding you come home, but you've never just...showed up to an empty house and brewed coffee and drank some before leaving. It'd explain why your cup is used and empty next to his, in a similar state (her father could've saw the pot and poured himself a quick cup on the way up), but again, that's just weird. Far too weird.

Kim nearly drops her own mug as she's pulling it out of the cupboard by the sink when her father suddenly shouts “fuck!” before repeating it, nearly double the volume. “Dad? You okay up there?”

“Oh no, I'm fine,” he immediately calls back. “I, uh, I stubbed my toe on the bed.”

Oh. Really? Her father showed less concern over her spraining her ankle her freshman year from trying to do a cool skateboard trick and failing.

“Oh,” she responds. “Be careful next time, okay?”

“Yeah. I have been...really, _really…_ ” There's a long pause that has Kim tentatively making her way upstairs.“...clumsy lately.”

She almost continues up the stairs just to check for herself if he's lying or not. But then he's laughing, almost _maniacally,_ and ah, she guesses he's fine. He laughs like that all the time. If he were seriously injured, he wouldn't be laughing.

Kim walks back into the kitchen. She might as well prepare dinner for them, right? Though she has to admit that you not joining them will be...rather disappointing. You had seemed so excited to spend time with her too! Her father should've told her she was going to the gym today. You wouldn't have minded just waiting here for either of them to return, right? Then the three of you could have had dinner together, and maybe you could have even spent the night...

She shakes that thought away. No way. She doesn't even know if you like girls. You've never shown a clear indication for either gender—and any other in between—instead choosing to focus on your studies. You haven't even ever had a boyfriend before, and that was _the_ thing to do in middle school (though the relationships only ever lasted a few days, if people were lucky). For all Kim knows, you may just not be interested in dating, period. The thought makes her heart sink, but hey, she's not far off from the mark. She's always been invested in soccer and swimming, so can she really blame you for never having a romantic side when she's never had one either?

Her father is making weird sounds again. Kim tries to ignore them as she turns on the stove to heat up a pot of water to make some pasta, but god _damn,_ he's just so _loud._ The next time she calls up to him he claims to have pulled a muscle, but at this point she's more than suspicious. He's also weirdly guarded about her coming upstairs to check on him. Almost as if...

Her eyes widen. Almost as if he's hiding something from her.

Her and her father never hide anything from each other. Ever since her mother demanded a divorce for a reason her father won't explain—leaving without so much as a goodbye and no interest in joint-custody—he had made sure to be as honest and forthright as possible. It's kept their relationship solid. No lies, no funny business, nothing. She's thankful for it.

So the thought of her father hiding something from her already begins tearing her apart. She hopes it's just something random—her birthday _is_ a week after graduation, which is quickly approaching, so perhaps he's hiding presents—or, hell, a secret _lover_ he's still getting to know before introducing to her.

Through the sliver the _almost_ completely shut door allows her to peek through, what she doesn't expect to see is you, completely naked on her father's bed, with him.

Well, the first thing Kim sees is her father, as naked as the day he was born, back facing towards her. She cringes away from the sight, almost refusing to see who he has in bed with him for fear of catching a glimpse of what helped make her, but she recognizes the nail polish on the woman's toenails. It's just a glimpse, but she can see the umber shade from how high her legs are in the air.

It draws her back in, seeing her father naked be damned. That umber shade...when you two had gone to the mall over winter break to spend some of the money you'd both gotten for Christmas, she'd bought you that nail polish bottle. You had almost refused, not wanting her to buy you more than she's already given you, ever so modest. But the color matches Kim's eyes, and after noticing this, you decided to keep it. You wear the shade on your nails—both on your fingers and toes—because “they remind me of you Kimmy, so even when you're busy with practice, you'll still be in my thoughts!”

What a joke.

The sight of you writhing under her father as he...makes the most obscene noises she has _ever_ heard brings tears to her eyes and bile up her throat. Seriously, the noises he's making are awful, all growls and groans, but what's worse is the _words_.

“Aaah, that's right...that's right. My cock throbbing in your little cunt,” he growls out, and through Kim's cringing and the trauma she is, without a doubt, going to have to deal with after seeing and hearing this, she can see you tremble. You _like_ it. “Your legs spread wide, and your best friend downstairs doing her laundry…”

He trails off after dropping into a whisper, growling as you whimper and wrap your arms around her neck. She's thankful you're not doing any of the talking. If she had to hear you talk like that, she thinks she might just break.

“God, can you imagine what she'd do if she came up here and saw me between your legs?”

Never before has she ever hated her father's ridiculous villain laughter more.

Kim has always known her father is a hit with the ladies. Hell, even some _men_ have shown an interest in him, but he's never once reciprocated any of their interests and advances. After her mother left, he never showed an interest in dating again. She's never blamed him for that. If she had to deal with a divorce, she wouldn't want to enter the dating scene for a while. Just to get over it properly and move on.

Never once did she think that was going to change. Sure, she's always rooted for him; being alone sucks, and she knows her father gets lonely when Kim is so busy with practices and studying and doing everything a normal teenager does that they don't want their parents to know about. She gets that, she really does.

But to think he would choose her best friend, the one who she has been in love with for nearly five years now?

And to think...you let him in? You chose him in return?

Kim leaves before she can see or hear anything else. Traveling back down the stairs, she almost forgets about the water boiling on the stove. She uses it as a worthy distraction from what's going on upstairs, even if it only makes her want to dunk her head into the burning hot water and melt her head off her shoulders. She doesn't actually do it, but imagining is the next best thing.

Sometimes they say the imagination is far worse than reality, but Kim supposes whoever said that has never seen their best friend get fucked by their father.

* * *

Dinner is awkward. Half of Kim is expecting you to come downstairs _with_ her father, some sort of excuse for your sudden appearance on one or both of your tongues. But luckily that doesn't happen. Quite honestly, she doesn't know what she would have done if that actually happened, but she doesn't have to figure that out. Her father comes down alone, freshly showered and all smiles. It's almost like he wasn't just blowing out her best friend's back, growling like a wild, feral animal and talking about what would happen if Kim knew.

Like her knowing is some sort of...kink. Out of all of her time knowing you—almost seven full years—and she'd never known about _this_ side of you. Kim wishes she could've gone her entire _life_ not knowing that about you. She wishes she was blissfully ignorant and hopeful that you would return her feelings once she confessed on graduation day.

She is almost one-hundred percent positive you would reject her now, after seeing what she saw.

“How was practice?” her father asks as he slides into the chair across from hers at the dining table. Kim can't even bring herself to make eye contact. “Did something bad happen?”

How is she even supposed to go about telling her father she saw you and him having sex upstairs? How is she supposed to ask the question playing on repeat in her head: how long? How long has this been happening? Since the first time you came over while Kim was busy with soccer practice? Are you not actually going to pursue what her father teaches?

Her father opens his mouth again, but Kim quickly says, “No, uh...nope! Sorry, just...thinking.”

“Okay,” he replies. “There must be a lot on your mind with graduation coming up, yes? Soccer season is almost over too.” He chuckles then, the sound like nails on a chalkboard in Kim's ears after the last time she heard it. “You must be excited to spend more time with (Y/N) once the season is over and summer rolls around, huh?”

The mention of you has Kim bristling.

Her father picks up on this immediately. He hasn't even taken one bite of the chicken alfredo Kim had made to distract herself from listening too intently to his grunts and your whimpers, and already his fork is back on his plate, noodles abandoned.

“Did something happen between you two?” he asks.

Technically no. Nothing has happened between you and her, and Kim supposes that's how it'll always be. You _could,_ of course, be bisexual, but she doubts you would be interested in dating her when her father has already stolen your attention in such a...raunchy way. To think she had thought you were the only one to not see her father that way. She thought you thought of him as the father you deserved, the one who was opening doors to your future career for you that you were forever indebted to.

Had it all been a lie?

She chews on the inside of her cheek, idly stirring her untouched pasta. She doesn't have much of an appetite. “No...I just miss hanging out with her. So yeah, I guess you could say I'm excited for soccer to end so I can see her more.”

With her eyes not on him, she doesn't see the way her father scrutinizes her so intensely. They have almost never lied to one another. Is her sudden lying really that obvious?

“I'm excited too,” he admits, and Kim snaps her head up to look at him. Is he going to tell her himself? “I know how you get when you don't get your one-on-one time with her. It's cute, really.”

Kim's cheeks heat up in embarrassment in spite of herself. “Wha—not true! You've been spending way more time with her anyway!”

Which is sadly true. Kim would never give up her sports, but if she knew letting you spend so much alone time with her father would lead to _this…_ she would've done something, _anything,_ to prevent it. She wants her father to be happy, yes, but not with _you._ Anyone but you.

Her father laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “She's ambitious. Who am I to deny her my time when she shows so much promise?”

Ambitious...never before have her father's compliments regarding you felt so dirty and wrong. Kim has always prided herself in you and in knowing that, out of any and every friend of hers, you are the one he likes the most. She knows of other people her age whose families aren't as accepting of their friends, putting strain on their relationships, and has always felt blessed by the fact that you and her father got along swimmingly. Too swimmingly, she's found.

And you're still here. Well, unless you somehow managed to sneak out from the second floor. The stairs are within her direct line of vision, so even if you tried, she would catch you. So you _have_ to be upstairs, most likely waiting for her father to come back up and tear you apart just to put you back together all over again. They're probably banking on her leaving again so they can be...as loud as they want.

“I guess,” she mumbles.

It's never been so hard to eat before. The chicken tastes like rubber and the noodles like cotton, but she manages to chew and swallow bite after bite with great difficulty. The glass of water off to the side is her only reprieve, but even that manages to taste off. How is it even possible for water to taste off?

Her father hums as he eats as well. After a few minutes of tense silence, he says, “You're upset about something, I can tell. If it's not anything we've talked about today, what is it?”

Kim doesn't say anything. She's never been bratty or purposefully malicious towards him, and the fact that she _wants_ to be is killing her too. She wants to be mad at him; she _is_ mad at him. But she's never been able to stay mad at her father for very long and vice versa. It just isn't within their nature.

“I'm just tired,” she sighs.

She can't stamp down the molten anger and betrayal coursing through her, but before she confronts this, she needs to speak with you first. Maybe you'll confess a lot more easily than her father. To think it's so easily for him to lie to her...has he been lying to her all her life? And she just never knew because his honesty and deception sound the same?

“Maybe you should go to bed early tonight,” her father offers. “You've been working hard all semester. I think you deserve the rest.”

That sounds great...until it doesn't. Because you're still here, and if you're still here, then the only way for you to sneak out would be for when Kim isn't there. As much as she hates both of them right now, she doesn't want to be vindictive, and so leaving so you can wrap up your shameful acts and return home is the best option here. For now. So Kim can clear her head and figure out how to proceed.

“I will later,” she promises.

Her father's lips curl up ever so slightly. “Do you have plans?”

“Yeah, actually,” she confirms, and before he can ask, explains, "I was planning on going to the park to get some of my reading done. At this hour, the little kids that're usually there should be gone.”

He nods, pleased. “Sounds like a good plan. The fresh air might help too.”

“I'm sure it will,” she says.

It'll definitely be better than staying here and sobbing her heart out over the one and only person she's ever fallen in love with while they get railed by her father. When she finishes eating she excuses herself, throwing her laundry in the dryer before grabbing her bag and skateboard. She doesn't respond to her father's call of “be careful out there!”

* * *

“Kimmy!”

Kim has never not wanted to see you. Even in painful fits of menstruation-induced aggravation or moping self-pity after a soccer game lost or swim meet gone wrong, she has never _not_ wanted to see you. But the following morning as she stands in front of her locker, the last person she wants to see is you. Even that weird guy that won't stop asking her out even though she tells him she's gay every time would be more suitable to her tastes than you right now.

So when you call out her name—the nickname only you and her father use, go figure—and wrap your arms around her like you do every morning, Kim jolts and wrestles out of your grasp. You gasp, and she knows why. She has never pushed you away before.

“Sorry,” you apologize sheepishly. “Are you okay?”

Kim can't stand looking at you. Looking at her father had taken staying up all night trying to understand the situation from his side, and even when she _did_ look, it had only been a tiny, sparing glance his way before leaving for school this morning. She hadn't spent the night thinking about you, too heartbroken and confused to take on both the side of her father and you at once. She had been planning on thinking you over all night _tonight._ But she supposes she doesn't get the time to think it over before facing you, seeing as how you're her best friend.

She sighs, exhausted. “It's fine, don't worry about it—I just...thought it was Garrett. Again.”

Your eyes widen before they narrow, eyebrows knitting together. Even as Kim's disgust towards you for fucking her father boils away in the pit of her stomach, the love she has felt for you for years overpowers it. She finds herself smiling the more upset you become at the mere _mention_ of Garrett.

“Has he been coming onto you again? How many times do you have to say you're gay before he gets the hint?” you denounce, thoroughly disgusted. “Do you need to wear a sign or something? Or is he blind too?”

Kim laughs, though it sounds far too forced. “Leave it be, (Y/N). We're about to graduate in a few weeks, so I won't have to deal with him ever again after that. I can hold out a few weeks.”

“But you shouldn't _have_ to,” you insist, and ah, that's one of the many reasons why she loves you. You care so much about her and making sure she's happy and safe. Not many people at their school are anything but white, cisgender and heterosexual, so Kim being a lesbian is a huge deal. Or, well, it _was_ until you made sure it wasn't. She still swoons in spite of herself thinking about it. “I'm gonna have a 'lil chat with him after class today. Just you wait, I'll—”

“Woah, woah, no,” she protests, her next laugh far more genuine. Real. She'll never get over how breathless you make her feel, so wonderful—and then the sight of you beneath her father comes back, and she snaps her mouth and locker door shut. “I gotta get going to class. Don't do anything reckless. Please?”

You eye her warily, gaze piercing. Kim looks away. She suddenly feels sick to her stomach, the banana she'd eaten on the ride here churning uncomfortably, threatening to rise.

Finally you shrug, saying you won't. Of course, not without saying, “But if he so much as _tries_ saying you just “haven't found the right guy yet”, I'm landing at least _one_ hit on him. You can't stop me from that!”

Kim sighs. “Sure, sure. Now get going before you're late.”

You nod and salute to her before taking off down the hallway. It's only when you're out of sight that she can breathe, slumping against her locker. The guy to her left looks at her weird out of the corner of his eye but doesn't say anything as she sniffles and walks off to her own class.

* * *

After thinking it over, Kim decides not to do anything about what she heard and saw. Well, not yet anyway. She still needs to get over the heartbreak and find a way to hold an intelligent conversation with them without feeling like throwing up or crying (or both). She stews over it for weeks, and in that time, graduation approaches. Soccer season ends, and classes come to a close.

You're valedictorian, of course. Why wouldn't you be? You've been working hard since the day she met you, and with the...help...from her father, was there really any doubt in anyone's mind that you'd be bagging that title?

Through the crowds of family members here to celebrate them all graduating, Kim can see her father. He's sitting alone, her lone support system, with your family a few rows behind him. None of them seem particularly interested in what's happening as the principal and everyone else gives speeches. She thinks she even sees your father on his phone even as you're giving your valedictorian speech.

It softens something inside her. Kim doesn't really know how to feel. Today was the day she was going to muster up all of her courage and confess of her undying feelings for you. There was one sliver of hope that you'd reciprocate, but after that day, all hope of entering a happy, loving relationship with you have been dashed. Kim is still coming to terms with it.

Seeing your family give not even one shit about you, even when you're the best of their graduating class, helps Kim understand a little bit on just why you and her father have the relationship you have. It must feel nice to have a loving, caring father, right? It must feel nice to be supported and encouraged, huh? Kim knows what that feels like, but that's because that's all she's ever known. Sure, she doesn't have a mother, but she doesn't remember much about her. And she doesn't really _want_ to remember either. So she doesn't feel the need to fill any sort of void that doesn't exist.

God, what is she thinking? Is Kim seriously sympathizing with you right now? In any other situation, yes, she would without hesitation. But this isn't like any other situation. She had caught her best friend having sex with her father. That would be like you catching her having sex with your father...and just that thought in and of itself is enough to send disgusted shivers down her spine. So why does she understand where you're coming from? Why does she think she has this situation figured out when it could simply be out of some weird lust that you two are banging?

She misses the bulk of your speech thinking about it. Go figure. When you and her spend the rest of the night together thanking your guys' lucky stars that high school is over and most likely getting wasted—Kim managed to snag a few bottles of vodka from the wine cellar a few weeks ago, which would mix perfectly with her cranberry juice—you'll ask her how your speech was, and she'll have to make some shit up about it just to get by. She knows it's amazing, but she feels bad only getting the beginning and end.

Her father is quick to approach the both of you after your diplomas are in hand and your caps are thrown in the air. Kim is nearly crushed by how tight his grip is when he picks her up, swinging her around with tears dotting at the corners of his eyes and smiling wide and bright enough to blind her. She isn't surprised to see him do the same to you, looking away. She doesn't see nor hear her father whisper in your ear or how you burn red from it.

“Who's ready for celebratory dinner?” he asks.

Kim looks around for your family. “Aren't you gonna celebrate with your family, (Y/N)?”

You shake your head, not even bothering to look around. “They had things they had to do, so they left right after the ceremony. So I'm free for the rest of the night!”

“Will you be staying overnight?" her father asks.

Of course he would ask that. What, is he planning on giving you celebratory sex?

No, don't think about that. That most likely _is_ his plan, and Kim doesn't want to know one bit of it. All she wants to do is get wasted and spend the rest of her night blissfully numb. She had been hoping to spend it cuddling and kissing you after you maybe accepted her feelings, but that's all been thrown to the wind for weeks now. Months, now that she thinks about it. The second her father stuck his dick in you, it was over.

You look to her for an answer. It's always her that makes the decision, because you're nothing but generous and honorable. It makes Kim two parts nauseous and one part giddy.

“Uh, duh?” she answers. “What, you think I _don't_ wanna spend the night with you?”

You laugh, relief washing over you. With your family far too busy to celebrate your graduation and accomplishments, she's sure you could use being around people who _do_ care.

“Then it's settled.” Her father claps his hands together before leading them out of the packed auditorium. “I'll make stir fry and you girls can kick back for the night, okay?”

“Sounds perfect,” you reply, and he smiles.

Kim fights down the urge to run away screaming. The looks you two give each other are far too intimate and sweet. She had been thinking there was only lust between you two, but the more she sees how you two act around each other, the more she thinks you and her father may actually be in love. She can't bear the sight of it.

True to form, her father gets going right away on the stir fry when they arrive at their house, letting you guys do whatever you want in the meantime. Maybe...maybe now would be a good time to talk about it. Kim knows you two will probably spend almost the entire summer together, but she'd rather get this out of the way now. The pain has lessened, but it won't begin to heal unless she gets some answers out of you, then her father.

So the second you two are alone in her room, graduation robes and caps taken off and chucked off to the side, she inhales.

“There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about,” she begins.

You only hum in response as you stride over to her Wii, turning it on to begin playing Super Mario Galaxy. Kim uses you gathering the remotes and turning on the TV as enough time to put together how exactly she wants to bring it up.

“It's about...romance,” she tries.

That certainly has your attention. Your head whips up, eyes comically wide before you drop all that you're holding to bound over to her. Hands find her shoulders, the warmth from your hands nearly making Kim melt.

“You? _You_? Queen of choosing sports over love, is coming to me for romance advice?” you exclaim, shocked.

Kim laughs. “Coming from you, Queen of choosing your grades over love. No, I'm not asking you for advice.”

“Damn,” you sigh. “Okay. Then what about romance do you wanna talk about?”

Your hands slip from her shoulders, leaving her cold and empty as you turn back to pick up all that you'd dropped. Luckily it's all old, her Wii barely working after all these years anyway, so even if something was broken it wouldn’t matter much. Kim fiddles with the hem of her dress before steeling her nerves.

“Have you been seeing my dad?”

Had you not just set everything down on her bed, she's sure you would have dropped everything all over again. You turn to her, eyes wide and eyebrows nearly out of sight in your hairline with how far up your forehead they are. Your mouth drops open, then snaps closed, on repeat for at least a minute before you come to your senses and stop looking like a fish out of water.

“Seeing? Well, yeah, we just saw him earlier,” you joke, laughing nervously.

“No, like…” Kim comes closer, a sudden burst of confidence keeping her words from shaking. “ _Romantically_ seeing him. Are you sleeping with my dad?”

All at once you go from looking like a deer in headlights to perfectly calm. What? She was certain being confronted would make you lie through your teeth and deny it. Not look calm as you say,

“Yes.”

The blatant honesty in the single word you speak has Kim gaping in shock this time. Did you really just...confess so willingly to sleeping with her father, to her face? She knows she's the one who asked and wanted an honest answer, but actually getting one...she suddenly feels dizzy. Too dizzy.

“Hey! Ah, don't fall,” you fret.

Your hands find her shoulders again, gently guiding her down onto the bed. She nearly sits down on one of the remote controllers but shifts just in time to avoid it. All she can focus on is you and how impressively—and distressingly—easy it was for you to confirm her suspicions. Who, upon being asked if they're sleeping with their best friend's father, just says “yes”? Who in their right mind does that?

“For how long?” she chokes out.

Tears are running down her face before she can even feel them. You reach forward to wipe them away, to which she slaps your hands away. Any other time, Kim would gladly welcome your touch, crave it in these times of distress. Now? She wants nothing to do with it.

You sigh, sitting down on the floor before her. “My birthday?”

What...your eighteenth birthday? That was more than a few months ago. All this time...nearly half a year you and her father have been doing this? Behind her back, behind closed doors, not one breaking from guilt or anything? She knows that with that kind of thing, one doesn't simply speak up about it and preach it to the heavens, but...

“You're my best friend,” she sniffles. “And you've been doing this behind my back?”

You have the gall to look confused. “I didn't think you'd be enthused about it, so I didn't want to tell you.”

“Of course I‘m not enthused!” she shouts, glaring at your blurry figure through her tears. “But I‘d have preferred you being honest and just _telling_ me rather than leaving it to me to catch you two in the act!”

Finally, something other than confusion or perfect calm crosses your face: realization.

“You saw?” you ask, voice just barely a whisper.

Kim nearly explodes. Or implodes. All she knows is that she feels like strangling you and then killing herself. She's not even confronting her father about this and she feels like she's about to have an aneurysm.

“Did I see? Of fucking course I saw!” she shrieks, and you gasp. Kim almost never swears unless she's under a severe amount of distress, and even then it's rare. “And I _heard_ too! I heard enough! Too much!”

The door opens, and the other person Kim is sobbing over is standing in the doorway. Her father looks confused, then startled, before he rushes in and kneels down beside you in front of her.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” he asks.

“Am I hurt?" Kim retorts. “ _Am I hurt_? Of fucking course I am!”

Her father winces, glancing at you for some sort of explanation.

“She found out,” is all you say, and it clicks into place like Tetris. Kim wishes this was as easy and simple as a game of Tetris.

He sits back on his heels, running his hands through his hair as he exhales. His shoulders are tense, and Kim sees you almost reach out to press a hand between his shoulder blades. But then you catch her watching and stop, almost ashamed of yourself. Good.

“How could you guys do this to me?” she blubbers, frantically wiping at her eyes so she can at least _see_ you. “My best friend sleeping with my dad behind my back? For months? Am I some sort of joke to you guys?”

To think she'd calmed down and even sympathized with you earlier. Now all Kim feels is white-hot anger, scorching her from the inside out. Screw not being vindictive. She's going to be downright _malevolent._

“Sweetie, calm down,” her father attempts. “We can talk about this calmly—”

“No! How can we talk about you two doing something like that calmly? That's like saying...saying...that a person dying isn't worth being mourned over!” Kim shrieks.

She feels hysterical. Maybe she is. You and her father watch her sob.

“Kimmy,” you try, pausing as she loses it all over again from the mere nickname you picked up from spending time fucking her father. “Kimmy, come on...don't you want your father to move on and be happy?”

Of course she does! Kim wants the best for her father, even now, even after the fact he stole from her the love of her life. She wants him to meet a wonderful woman and fall madly in love with her—

But she didn't—and still doesn't—want it to be you. She wouldn't care if it was anyone else her age. Hell, even that weird guy Garrett would be better, and she knows his father doesn't swing that way. Just...anyone, please, _anyone_ but you.

Kim doesn't realize she's sobbed all of this out until you place a hand on her thigh. It catches her off guard enough that she stops rambling, peeking through the hands she didn't know she placed over her face to look at you. You're smiling. How are you able to smile during a time like this?

“Why can't it be me?” you ask.

As if it isn't obvious. As if Kim hasn't been in love with you since the eighth grade after you beat up that guy, as if she hasn't been falling in love with you more and more with each passing day and each weird, outlandish joke you tell that really shouldn't be funny but somehow _is..._ as if she doesn't still love you, even with the source of your affections kneeling right beside you.

“Because I'm in love with you,” she whispers, and the torture of saying it on the day she'd planned but in the worst possible situation nearly rips her heart from her chest still beating. She's thrown into a whole new wave of tears, drowning in her sorrow.

You stare in bewilderment. Of course you wouldn't know; why would you? Kim has never made advances towards you or made any hints of her affections towards you...Kim is sure it's a huge surprise to both her and her father. Lord knows she's never told her father, too embarrassed. He knows she's gay, but the crush on you? It's news. Big news.

There's a long stretch of silence before anyone speaks. Kim is surprised it's her father.

“Why didn't you ever tell me?” he queries. “If you had told me, I—”

She laughs, pitiful and small. “You'd what? Refrain from fucking my best friend?”

His silence says it all. Of course he wouldn't care and get in your pants anyway, even knowing. All men are the same, hasn't every woman in existence said that at least once? Well, this is Kim's first directed at her father. Her father was supposed to be above the rest, someone worthy of respect and admiration from all. His popularity with just about anyone he meets is unmatched, his features sharp and attractive, his manners polite. He should be the ideal man, the ideal father.

Apparently your mere existence throws a wrench in all of that. Kim actually laughs thinking about it.

You slide your hand down from her thigh to her knee, giving the exposed skin a gentle squeeze. “I know you're upset right now. I would be too, you know, if the roles were reversed…”

“Like anyone would fuck _your_ dad," Kim retorts. “It's not the same. And here I thought...here I thought you just wanted help with getting your career started. Do you even give a shit about what he does?”

“Of course I do,” you defend.

“Really,” she drawls, unimpressed. She's so exhausted, the tears finally beginning to peter out into nothing. “I'm sure you're _real_ interested in what my dad teaches when you're underneath him in bed. I'm sure you _love_ talking about your degree requirements as he fucks you like a wild animal—”

“Kim!” her father barks, and Kim stops, eyes wide. He hasn't called her 'Kim' in so long. “I understand you're mad. We weren't honest with you. We fostered a relationship together without your knowledge. But that does _not_ give you the right to talk to your friend like that!”

She crosses her arms. “Of course you'd defend _her,_ seeing as how your dick has been in her, what, how many times? I don't have enough fingers to count on—”

“Kim,” he grounds out.

She falls silent, huffing as she does. Kim refuses to meet your gaze, though if she did she would find you staring with glassy eyes at her in disbelief. All she wants to see is them leaving her room and never coming back, but no, that'd probably make them want to scamper up to her father's room and fuck, right? Rule one, which she never knew existed and really shouldn't: never leave your best friend and father alone. Ever.

“Unless you're willing to discuss this like an adult, we won't be discussing it at all,” her father tells her. “Understand?”

She doesn't respond.

“Kimmy," you beg, and finally, _finally_ she meets your gaze. She hates the pleading look in your eyes.

She's never hated someone's eyes more.

“Fine,” she caves. “I just have one question.”

“What is it?” her father asks.

Kim looks between them, red, puffy eyes staring them down with disdain. “Were you two planning on fucking tonight?”

Silence. It's all the answer she needs.

Abruptly she stands up, causing you to retract your hand as she walks away from you two. You and her father watch in growing confusion as she grabs her skateboard and phone charger, phone already pocketed in the breast of her dress. She makes it to the doorway before you two are scrambling to your feet.

“Where are you going?” her father demands to know.

Kim doesn't look back. “Out. So you two can fuck to your heart's content.”

“No, Kimmy, don't do that,” you try to reason. “Don't do something stupid just 'cause you're mad—”

“As stupid as you guys?” she spits back. “If I wanted to stoop so low, I'd agree to sleep with Garrett. You know what? Maybe I'll do just that, just to understand how you guys operate.”

And with that she leaves the room, running to leave and disappear out into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far, I am so sorry. (But thank you for reading anyway!)


End file.
